


Anything but

by schierlingsbecher



Series: Spideypoolweek [5]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mpreg, mention of misscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schierlingsbecher/pseuds/schierlingsbecher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade can not change the facts. As much as he wants to - he can't.</p><p>Day 5 - Angst</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything but

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best, sorry.

Wade doesn’t hear the sound of the small plastic device clattering into the sink. The tiled floor seems to float away beneath his feet, leaving him dizzy and sick.

This can't be happening.

In horror, he stares down his body, shaky fingers running over the slight swelling of his tummy. He feels like throwing up, his knees going weak and the air getting stuck in his lungs, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. The dim light reflecting from the mirror is too much for his eyes and they start burning with unshed tears.

"NononononononoNonononono," Wade doesn't know who he's begging; anybody, no one - whoever created this cruel joke.

His legs give up and Wade grabs the edge of the sink to support his weight. The knot in his throat has him retching, hot salty droplets running over his cheeks.

This can only be a cruel dream.

A nightmare.

Anything.

Anything but true.

 _Please don’t let this be true_.

A soft knock comes from the bathroom door and Wade twitches like a wound animal. His heart hammers in his throat. His palms are sweaty and adrenaline rushes through his veins. For a second, he feels trapped.

"Wade? You alright?"

 _Peter_... Wade bites his lips, taking heavy breaths through his nose to force his voice to sound steady as he responds.

"Slipped... just broke an ankle babe. But if you join me in the shower, I might forget it in a sec!"

He tries to add a chuckle. It comes out dry but loud enough.

The silence that follows his response is deadly and Wade prays he swallowed that.

"I'll make breakfast, just hurry. I'll have to leave soon."

“Will do, baby boy!”

Feet pad away from the door and a silent wheeze has Wade hunching ovr the sink. 

_Easy_ Wade tells himself, leaning over the sink. _It might just be wrong – hell, who knows if these things even work with your crippled body. Nothing ever does amirite. Amirite?_. Of course the one time he wants to be distracted the voices are dead silent. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the small the two blue lines on the device lying in the sink.

 _See a doc first. Crazy shit happens all the time, might be anything. Can't do anything 'bout it now. Just… fuck, get yourself together and DON’T. LET. PETEY. NOTICE_.

He opens the tap and lets the cold water run over his hands, then rubs it over his face. A look in the mirror tells him he’s pale, but Petey might not see that under the scars and even if he does, Wade could just say it was the pain in his foot or he had a very bad skin day.

Wade makes sure the bathroom looks normal, takes the plastic from the sind and shoves it into the pockets of his shorts to throw it away as soon as Peter left the apartment.

Exhaling a last shaky breath, Wade adjusts his shirt and puts on his brightest smile, stepping out of the bathroom to give Peter a tight hug and goodbye kiss.

~

He sits curled up on a chair in the corner of the waiting room. One hand is holding his belly, the other's pulling the hood of his pullover over his face.

It is true.

He’s still trying process this fact. His mind is still struggling with the severity of it and Wade hasn’t moved from his seat since he got the news some hours ago. Even if he wanted to go, he couldn’t. His legs are pressed to his chest and his breaths are flat and shallow, the muscles in his stomach clenched. And even if he could make himself stand up and walk out that door, he wouldn’t know where to go. The apartment building he used to live in was teared down shortly after he’d moved out to share a flat with Peter. He couldn’t wander the streets. He couldn’t go back home. He couldn’t run away.

The whole day he'd tried to tell himself that funny feeling might be something he'd eaten, or a disease that finally bypassed his healing factor, or anything but that. Anything.

He’d tried to convince his mind that his whole system was different from other people, thanks to whatever Weapon X pumped into him all these years ago. Or that this might not even be a possibility for Peter and him after all the ways in which Wade was damaged. Or anything but this. Anything. 

But it's true.

It’s the horrible and simple truth.

A hand touches his shoulder and Wade jerks away from the contact.

"Wade, it's me... Peter.”

The hand resting on his shoulder squeezes slightly. His voice is calm and warm, but Wade’s stomach turns nevertheless and hot tears well up in Wade’s eyes. This can’t get any worse.

“They called me and said you weren't leaving the office," he whispered, answering the question hanging in the air. The touch turns into a hug as Peter slowly moves his hands down Wade’s torso, turning him the tiniest bit to face Peter. He rests side to side with Wade, cheeks almost touching.

"How'd they get your number?"

"You must've listed me as your next of kin... thanks by the way."

"Oh... forgot 'bout that..."

The chair next to him squeaks as Peter sits down, eyes cast down. For a long moment, they don't say anything, just listen to their breaths - even the voices in Wade's head have gone silent. When Peter's fingertips brush over the back of Wade's hand, he realizes how he has them clenched so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. He forces them to open and Peter's fingers slide warm and gentle over his palm.

"Wade... Love what's wrong?"

Wade chokes on his own breath, his fingers gripping Peter’s a little too hard. 

“I…”

He doesn’t think he can say it.

“I’m…”

He doesn’t want to see Peter’s face light up with joy and shatter the moment he realizes what he just heard.

"I'm..." It feels like his voice is breaking, barely a rough whisper coming over his lips.

"I'm pregnant Petey..."

He sees Peter's eyes widen and slowly travel down his body to his belly, fingers twitching in Wade’s hand like he's keeping himself from touching. His warm breath tickles over Wade's cheek and Wade can see him blink quickly, eyes watering. The ache in his chest makes Wade wish he would just die right now and here.

"You... that's why... I... You... You mean we're... We're going to be daddies?" His voice is husky and a smile forms on Peter's lips - Wade almost can't stand looking at it.

He wants to scream and throw things through the room, but also curl up in a corner and never ever see daylight again.

That look on Petey’s face.

It's breaking his heart. He can feel cold pain tugging at his very soul, tearing it to pieces, leaving him open and bleeding. Wade wants to die. And Peter's here to witness every tiny bit of it, he'll see everything and Wade can't stand it, he cannot lose Peter like this; with sobs and pain and tears. Wade grits his teeth and pulls his hands free.

"No. No, we won't!" Wade snaps at him and shove Peter away. The ache blooming in his chest at Peter's suddenly confused expression only adds to his anger. "We'll never have that baby! My wrecked body will never let us!"

Peter looks like he’s been struck, mouth opened in a silent question, eyes searching for an answer in Wade’s face. “But… Wade… what if-”

At Peter’s gentle, hopeful voice, a lump forms in Wade’s throat and he chokes out a sob, hiding his face in his hands.

"What if? What if what, Peter?”

There’s no if Peter could bring up that’ll make things less worse. Anything Peter could tell him would just be an empty promise, a faint carress to heal a wound that is too deep to be healed. Wade doesn’t want to hear Peter’s attempts to make this positive or to cheer him up. It would be in vain. And it will break Peter’s heart. Wade will break Peter’s heart.

“I tell you what if! What if my healing factor will shed it? What... what if I can't give birth to it? What if they can't cut it out because... my healing... What if... if it... What if it is in constant pain or disfigured or hears voices all the time?! Peter!”

He didn’t mean to scream his name, but suddenly Wade’s on his feet, breathing heavily, filled with heat and rage. He hates Peter, he hates himself for this. He feels trapped. He feels lost. Wade covers his eyes as tears stream down his cheeks and he sinks to the ground, his body shaken by sobs and spasms that push the air out of him.

“What if it turns out like me?”

“No, Wade… listen…” Peter’s at a loss of words, Wade can hear it. He’s searching for comfort where there is none. “That’s not sure…” he finally says in a quiet voice.

“Do you really think that Pete? Can you promise me? Can you promise me it won’t be like that, not even one tiny bit?”

Peter opens his mouth once, but closes it again, trying to word things he cannot promise, things he cannot know. Wade pushes himself up, shoving his hands into his pockets. The few people that are in the waiting room with them stare at them, but Wade doesn’t care. He pulls his jacket tighter around himself, head hanging low.

“Let’s just go home. I’m tired…”

Wade leaves the waiting room without waiting for Peter’s steps to follow him.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [Schierlingsbecher](http://schierlingsbecher.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat or follow me <3
> 
> Also, feedback is always much appreciated ♥
> 
> Thank you for reading ♥


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